With a grid of tile around me
and warm water folded over me,
I press myself against myself,
cheek to thigh,
as if I can't get close enough in retreat,
as if I can't feel small enough

I have battered myself with company,
buffeted against transitories
When I am far removed from so many
things I'm close to,
I will have the strength to breathe in relief
I will have won a loneliness serene

©2001